


Date Night

by BoxWineConfessions



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aches and pains, Fluff, Future Fic, Getting Older, M/M, Tight Pants, and a little smut, gray hairs, maybe getting wiser, of the rapidly approaching middle age variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: Gray hairs, aches and pains, tight dress pants, an overflowing Outlook calendar, and maybe a baby. As the years progress, it's much harder for Victor and Yuuri to light the spark and kindle the fire between them. But, when it finally happened, the result was magic.Seven or so years after they meet in Hasetsu, Victor and Yuuri have a date night.





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracorys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracorys/gifts).



> Another Bday fic for the lovely @dracorys. Perhaps this fic is me projecting my inability to maintain a rewarding friendship because my calendar is fucking crazy. Maybe they wanted "loving gays" in a bday fic, and this was the least angsty thing I could think of when I started writing frantically. Either way, it's my 20th YOI fic, and my first proper Victuuri fic. So there's that.

“Minami-kun, please,” Victor isn’t in the business of begging his protégés. He never listened to Yakov, and he understands he’ll get just as much cooperation, if not less from his own students. “We already designed this costume, it fits you beautifully, and it’s breathtaking really.” The dark colors are sleek and elegant. For too many seasons, Minami has been playing the playful and childish card. He’s long due for an upgrade, a revamp, but his Yuuri so often bends to him.

Which is why it was Victor who took the train to Fukuoka city, dragged Minami across town from Hakata station, and into the designer’s studio for a fitting of this costume.

“Just look at the costume. Look at it without considering the history of your past performances. Look at it without thinking of your own preferences for a moment-“

“Yeah,” Minami tugs at the long sleeves of the costume. “But, I don’t like it. I don’t like bodysuits. I tried to tell you that. Yuuri was coming around,” he shoots Victor a glare that supposed to be laden with daggers. But Minami, with his thin build and short stature well into his early twenties, couldn’t glare daggers if his life depended upon it. Toothpicks maybe.

The designer jumps in and starts explaining and reiterating where the crystals would go on his costume. Victor’s ringtone interrupts them, a recording of _Yuuri on Ice_. He still loves the soft and haunting tinkering of the piano even years on.

Victor reaches for his phone as he rubs his temples. “Something amazing happened at practice this morning,” Yuuri text.

“What!?” Victor types back furiously. All three Nishigori triplets were making their debuts in Juniors this year. As media darlings, and skating world insiders for years now, the attention surrounding their upcoming debuts was a media frenzy from months on when the three of them announced individual themes, which were designed with setting each of their strengths apart from the other. Local news, TV Tokyo, there was even a Russian interview recently, because of Victor’s position as co-choreographer and coach.

“I can’t tell you,” Yuuri responds. “I’m saving it for tonight.”

Tonight? Tonight? Victor switches apps from texting to his calendar. He scrolls past the conference call he had with Yurio and Otabek this morning, he scrolls past the appointment that he and Yuuri and Mari had immediately after with the specialist, he scrolls down past his trip to Fukuoka with Minami. He keeps scrolling after this they had the on ice session he was supposed to have with all four of their trainees. The last block in his calendar for the day was colored pink. In big, capital letters, from 8:00 PM onward, it read, “DATE NIGHT WITH MY YUURI!!!”

“Oh dear,” Victor mumbles under his breath. With travel time back to Hasetsu included, Victor really didn’t have enough time. Anyone could put on a suit, and a tie and, bring interesting conversation, but not just anyone could bring the level of red wine and velvet excellence that _only_ came from being married to Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov. Victor took a quick mental tall of the tools he had at his disposal nearby. There was a Tiffany and Company in Hakata, and an Armani store because he simply _felt_ like he disliked all of his current ties, and- “Minami,” Victor checks his watch and then flashes his very best smile. It’s the kind that he’s used to make underwear melt away, and reporters wilt, and gotten dinner for free with. “Let’s wrap this up.”

* * *

Mentally, Yuuri went back and forth on which restaurant to make a reservation at. If their schedules weren’t so relentless, Yuuri would’ve gotten them a hotel room and dinner reservations outside of Hasetsu: Fukuoka, or Beppu, or Hiroshima. As it stands, for dinner, they have all of two choices for _nicer_ non-onsen fare. There’s the Kyoto style restaurant downtown, and then there is their _regular_ spot. The restaurant where he and Victor shared their first anniversary. The one where he and Victor took Mari after Mari agreed to surrogate for them.

Yuuri silently weighed the pros and the cons of each restaurant as he debated which restaurant to make reservations at. It’s not their anniversary, but he wants the night to be special.

He ignores the cries in triplicate of, “Yuuri,” interspaced with the sharp slicing sounds of honed blades against freshly conditioned ice.

“Yuuri!”  

“Yuuri!”

The triplets have been pushing him all morning He opened his locker to find a rubber spider attached to an elastic band. His undignified scream could be heard throughout ice castle. Then, his skate laces had been tied together during break. He wasn’t going to give them his attention now. Not when they’d been struggling to get through compulsories without bursting into laughter and disrupting their routines.

Yuuri drifted over to the rail and opened the keypad on his phone. He dials. “Ah, yes, I’d like a table for tonight, two please.” He can feel the blood flow to the tips of his ears. It’s been years now, but it still makes him flustered to say it out loud. “Yuuri Katsuki-,” he pauses for a quick breath. “Nikiforov.”

“Yuuri, watch out,” and then he’s knocked over and blinded by pale pink, and blue, and purple.

* * *

“So, did you get everything settled with Minami in the end?” Yuuri looks at himself in the mirror, and straightens the knot of his tie, which only makes things worse. So he repeats the action, and gets the same result. His tie looks far worse.

“Ah, not exactly. We’re still going back and forth on a few things,” which was Victor’s soft and gentle way of saying that Minami aged him a decade in a single afternoon. “The triplets?”

“That’s one of the things that I wanted to tell you about,” Yuuri can feel his tone match Victor’s, tired and pushed to his limit. “Come here. I need to show you something Victor.”

Victor steps into his space. Immediately, Yuuri is enveloped by the scent of Victor’s cologne. Yuuri closes his eyes and simply breathes it in, as if Victor were a fine wine to be savored.

Yuuri tilts his head, fist so that he’s nuzzling Victor’s shoulder. Then, he bends down slightly, exposing the crown of his head. “Do you see them?”

“See what my dear?”

“ _Them_.” Yuuri insists. “There are exactly three of them.” Yuuri leans back up and examines himself in the mirror for a moment before parting his coal black hair and exposing not one, not two, but three, white hairs on the crown of his head.

“Wow! That’s quite a coincidence!” Victor sounds too excited at the visible proof that he’s aging. Poorly.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Yuuri whines. “They’re killing me.”

“Alright then,” Victor pulls him close. He splays wide palms across his back and presses not one, but three separate kisses to the crown of his head. Although Victor does this kind of thing on a regular basis, it makes his face burn hot every time. “We won’t talk about work tonight. We have no children to speak of,-“  Victor stiffens at his own words.

Yuuri groans into Victor’s chest. “Okay, but,” he pulls back slightly. “That appointment that we made at the fertility clinic today? We’re going to have to cancel because the girls need to go to regionals and-“

“Tomorrow Yuuri.”

Yuuri nods. “Right,” he puffs out his chest in determination. “No work, no kids.”  He pulls back from Victor reluctantly, beginning to understand Victor’s earlier statement about wanting to stay in. He reaches for his tie, which rests on the desk.

 “Here, let me help you.” Victor smoothest his tie. Then, he rests his hand across Yuuri’s chest. The kiss between them is faint. Kisses like that used to show how Victor wanted to linger. How he wanted things to build, and crescendo at just the right moment. Now? Victor looks tired. There are faint dark circles underneath his eyes that match Yuuri’s own.

Yuuri would very much like to fill in the gaps. Build things up between them and make them shoulder, but he’s tired too.

“I got you a gift Yuuri.”

“Victor, you didn’t need to.”

“It’s nothing fancy, or particularly special. I simply had to return from Fukuoka with _something._ ” Victor goes to the dresser, and extracts a small blue box from his sock drawer. Yuuri never imagined that he’d grow accustomed to the sight of pale blue boxes from Tiffany. However, for Victor, sterling silver was an everyday kind of gift.

Yuuri knows by now that by size and shape alone the box contains cufflinks. He opens the box to reveal a pair of cufflinks designed to look as if they’d been tied into a knot.

“Do you like them?” Victor says after a moment when Yuuri says nothing right away.

How can he tell him? He has to tell him. Right? He’s especially bad at lying, even little white lies. “Yes, but, ah, Victor….” Yuuri goes to his own dresser, and from his jewelry box, filled with watches, cufflinks, tie tacks, that he’d accumulated only after Victor came into his life. He extracts an identical pair and shows them to his husband. “Two months ago?”

Victor’s pensive and anticipatory face shifts into a wide grin. “After the press conference with the triplets. Ah-Yuuri, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Yuuri says with a smile. “We can match.”

Victor’s hands are absolutely wonderful. Broad powerful palms, which fan out to long elegant fingers, on the right hand offset by his wedding band. Yuuri loves seeing private, but uncovered parts of Victor’s body. The palms of his hands, the soft skin of his inner forearm, his ankles with his pants rolled up high on a beach day. All of these things were parts of him that others could see if they looked closely, but so often, they didn’t.

Yuuri does Victor’s cufflinks, but not before taking each fingertip to his mouth and kissing each pad lightly.

“Yuuri, you make it hard to want to go out,” he caresses the side of Yuuri’s face when he’s done. Then, Victor does Yuuri’s cufflinks. Victor kisses his wedding band, the pulse points of his wrists, which make his heart flutter. Makes him wonder if Victor can feel the hike in his pulse.

“We should match every time that we go out. I’ll get more like yours.”

“Victor, we already match,” he supplies with a huff. Victor selected a gray blue shirt, which matched subtly with Yuuri’s tie. 

* * *

“What do you mean, you don’t have a table. I called and made a reservation.”

“Sirs,” the owner is sweating buckets, he’s bent at the waist in a bow as if he’s trying to become the living embodiment of shame. “Before we were cut off on the phone, I told you we were booked out for a wedding rehearsal.”

Yuuri rubs his temple. He can feel the throb of a headache beginning there. That’s right. The triplets knocked him over, they got cut off, and Yuuri never called back because Victor and Minami came back for as session. Yuuri had to tend to Minami.

“It’s alright,” Victor assures the proprietor. “Another time, for sure.” Victor drapes an arm across Yuuri’s shoulders. “Yuuri, let’s go to the other place.”

However, the Kyoto style restaurant is overbooked too. Women in elegant gowns and men in suits  wait in the lobby despite having reservations.

They walk back to the train station, Yuuri with slumped shoulders, and Victor optimistic. “We could go the Chinese restaurant. That’s always good.”

“They closed down two years ago when the chef died remember?”

“Ah! That’s right,” Victor’s tone shifts suddenly, “Poor Zhang-san.”

“Shabu-Shabu?”

“We’re banned from there for life because-“

“Our second anniversary.” Yuuri supplies and deflates against Victor even more. Another train rolls through he platform making their suit jackets and ties flap up into the air, and ruining their perfectly coifed hair.

They’d gotten absolutely smashed, and danced upon the table. Although they’d been in a private dining area, the owner walked in only to throw them out. If Yuuri hadn’t blacked out and danced with Victor at the Grand Prix years ago, it would’ve easily been the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to him. Word got around town, and back to his parents.

“I know!” Victor takes him by the hand and leads him up to the platform so they can wait for another train.

* * *

“It’s not exactly what I had in mind,” Yuuri tries to hide the suspicion in his voice. “But, I do like the food here,” Yuuri admits. He feels wildly out of place here with Victor. The ramen stall has four seats on each side. A bowl costs 800 yen, and extra meat is 100 yen. A large bottle of Kirin is 500.  There’s easily 500,000 yen of designer clothing between them. They stand out against the two business men on the other side in ill-fitting suits who chain smoke.

Victor immediately orders them two large bottles of beer. “I know it’s not your favorite, but-“

“I know they don’t exactly have a long list,” Yuri says with a smile. It’s Kirin, tea, and water. That’s it.

The owner is a short and stout woman with a ruddy face, she goes by Pumpkin. Although the length of the ramen stall is impossibly, short, she gallops from one end to the other at a breakneck speed. Her shoes clomp against the ground. She slaps two large icy bottles of beer in front of them. Yuuri sips the foam off the lip of the drink.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me?” Victor asks sipping his own beer gingerly.

“Well, um,” Yuuri starts to peel off the cream colored label off of his beer. “its work related…So, I don’t know if I should bring it up.”

“Ah, it can wait? Or should you tell me now?”

“It can wait,” Yuuri supplies. It’s the truth. If he gets started now, he might not stop. Victor was right, they needed to enjoy each other.

It’s quiet between them. Normally, Victor fills in the spaces in lulls in conversations. Typically, it’s Yuuri who leans up against Victor’s shoulder after a very long day. Now, it’s Victor, slightly slumped against Yuuri.

 It’s sticky hot even though the cruel Kyuushuu sun has set, and darkness enveloped them. His suit clings to him like a second skin. He’s going to need another bath before bed. Victor leans against his shoulder and the place where his forehead rests feels like a hot coal on his skin, but Yuuri doesn’t mind at all. It’s nice to just sit with Victor. It’s nice to feel Victor.

He’s always _near_ Victor, but their time together is always centered on their athletes, helping with the onsen, trying to have a baby, taking care of the growing number of dogs that they just keep collecting. It’s rarely just him and Victor anymore.

Yuuri orders them both tonkatsu ramen with extra meat.

 They don’t say a word until after the food comes. “My Yuuri is quiet tonight,” Victor says as he wraps noodles around his chopsticks as if he’s been doing it his entre life.

“I was saving the thing I wanted to tell you so I had something interesting to say tonight at dinner,” Yuuri confesses. He’s usually more than willing to let Victor titter back and forth between conversation points. Yuuri interjects when Victor asks his opinion, but he loves, in a very specific kind of way, letting Victor handle the conversation and letting his mind go onto autopilot.

“Tell me then,” Victor knocks his knee underneath the table. “I can’t bear the silence Yuuri, I need to hear your beautiful voice.”

“Ah,” Yuuri takes a long draught from his beer and scratches at the back of his head. He’s never gotten used to Victor doting on him. He hopes that he never does. “Loop finally landed the loop.” Victor decided that each girl’s signature should be their name. Their bodies of course, didn’t always cooperate.

“Yuuri!” Victor drops his chopsticks into the broth. “That’s fantastic! We just have to get Lutz in order now. The issue is, can we do it before the season begins?”

This of course, begins a tirade of discussion that they’d hoped to shelve. However, after a few beers, and good bowl of ramen, the heaviness and the exhaustion slide away. “At this point, he makes Yurio seem agreeable. We should just move to Russia and work with him exclusively.”

“I can’t believe you said that,” Yuuri says as he drains his beer.

“Is he not the least petulant of them all now?”

Yuuri mulls this over for a moment. “Wow,” he agrees. “How did Minami get so bad?”

Victor slams his bottle on the table making the other ramen stall inhabitants jump. “I’ll tell you how, he came of age in the _eros_ era.”

* * *

“We haven’t done this in a long time,” Victor notes. When Pumpkin-san wanted to close up shop, she chased them out and told them she wasn’t going to have them here drinking until dawn again. They hadn’t done that in a long time either.

“It’s kind of nice,” Yuuri says as he pops a tab open on his own beer. They considered sake at the konbini, but Victor managed to save his Yuuri’s life and talk him out of it. Convenience store sake never tasted that good.

They did this a lot when the onsen was being renovated. Hiroko-kassan and Toshi-tousan built on an addition after the onsen got so much popularity. There were six overnight rooms. The living area was renovated too. It meant that the onsen was doing well. It mean that when they spent time here, he and Yuuri would have their privacy.

However, the renovation period was stressful for all, and that was exacerbated by the close quarters due to construction. He and Yuuri had to stay in Hasetsu. They’d just taken on Minami. Had him move here from Fukuoka even.

He and Yuuri spent many a night as newlyweds down by the river on the grass. For their presence was one piece too many in their cluttered Hasetsu home.

“Right?” Yuuri sits down on the grass in one fluid motion. Yuuri is the embodiment of elegance and grace, and Victor is still enamored at how it shows up in a thousand little ordinary ways. He doesn’t spill a drop of his beer on the way down.

Victor on the other hand, doesn’t fare so easily. His body goes downward, but he has to brace himself on Yuuri’s shoulder. His muscles and his joints protest, and everything feels as if it’s grinding together in his body in the worst kind of way. Bone hits bone and makes his muscles pang with a pain that he didn’t know was possible until after he’d retired. “Ah, ow,” he protests.

Victor shucks his jacket immediately, and lays it flat on the grass. Yuuri’s hand flies to the small of Victor’s back. He lightly rubs at his skin through his shirt. It’s not enough to undo the deep knots in his back, but he appreciates the effort.

“You should go back to the doctor.”

“Everything aches Yuuri. It’s just aches. Not much they can do about that. You know that.”

Yuuri nods. Not only has he gone with Victor to many of these appointments, retirement and age have started to catch up with Yuuri too. Skating ages the body quickly. Before they bought a second heating pad, Yuuri’s favorite technique to wrestle it away from Victor was to pull him close on the sofa, snuggle into his back, and work his hand up underneath Victor’s shirt where the heating pad rested.

“You should take off your jacket. It’s hot,” Victor suggests.

“You always scold me,” but he complies peeling his own jacket away.

“You weren’t always used to such nice clothes. I’ve trained you properly.”

The sky is clear tonight, and devoid of any true cityscape, the riverfront showcases the stars beautifully. The reflection of the moon spills out onto the water decadently like lace on black marble.  Victor wants to wrap both of them up in the dark inky blackness of the night sky. The stars look like tiny little tears in the most rich and complete fabric. Of course, Yuuri’s skin always looks amazing underneath the moonlight.

“We shouldn’t have gotten these,” Yuuri says as he extracts from the plastic shopping bag, not more beer, but two soda flavored ice creams. “We certainly don’t need these.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Victor accepts the ice cream, but knows that there is a certain amount of truth to what Yuuri says. His slacks are getting tighter. There are items be bought off rack and had taken in, that will soon have to be let out. They both start the day off with a long run down to the beach. More often than not, they spend more time in the studio and on the ice than their students. However, they’re not competing anymore. Their bodies don’t need as much, and it’s harder to burn off even what they need.

“You cried the last time Yurio saw you and said something,” Yuuri responds.

“I cried because he dared insult me while wearing what he had on. It was an affront to prints of every kind,” Victor retorts. “Try some of mine,” Victor says after awhile.

“They’re the same.”

“Mine’s better, try,” Victor cups his hands underneath the ice cream bar, and moves it to Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri accepts. A small drop lands on his lip, and in an instant, his soft, pretty pink tongue darts out to collect it.

“Try mine then,” Yuuri repeats the action.

Soon, the sweets are left to congeal and melt in the grass. They fall into the grass. Yuuri’s hands on his hips, Victor’s hands tangle in Yuuri’s hair and splayed out against the small of his back. Need builds between them slowly now. It’s not like the rapid fire passion like when he first came to Hasetsu.

The seduction began before they left the house, before they started getting ready. When Victor bought the wrong pair of cufflinks, and Yuuri botched dinner reservations. Or, maybe it started even earlier. Either way, it took longer now. This back and fourth between them wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot. It wasn’t more difficult to feel close to Yuuri. The opposite, Victor knows this for a fact when he slots their lips together _just_ right, and it feels perfect, immediately.

 It just takes more effort, more planning, more everything to get them both there.

“I love you,” Yuuri says when they part and come up for air.

Victor buries his face into Yuuri’s neck. He revels in the scent of Yuuri’s skin tinged with salt. He kisses a small trail up his neck to his earlobes and nibbles lightly. “I love you too, my Yuuri,” but he says it in every language that he knows: Russian, French, English, and then Japanese.

“We should go home,” Yuuri croons into his ear.

“Not here?” Victor chuckles. They’ve worked frantic hands over each other’s fists, or snuck down here after midnight and furtively blown each other more times than they’d like to admit.

“I’m not drunk enough for that,” Yuuri adds. “I’m not getting drunk enough for that. In the morning we have to-“

Victor silences him with a kiss. “Enough of that.”

* * *

Victor stifles several yawns on the train ride home. They could’ve walked, but it’s hot outside and the train is cool. They’re both sore, and the train is much faster.

It doesn’t help their tightening slacks.

Yuuri grabs his husband’s arm, turns his wrists slightly, and looks at his watch. “Victor, it’s only 9:30,” he says in disbelief.

“We should sleep in tomorrow,” Victor supplies as they hang up their suit jackets, pressed pants. “I’ll make you breakfast in bed Yuuri,” he says with a smile.

“Ahhh,” Yuuri makes a big show of opening the calendar app on his phone and flipping through. “I don’t think we can miss this one.”

“Yuuri, you wound me,” but Victor’s actions betray his words. In nothing more than his underwear and his sock clad feet, he walks toward Yuuri and envelops him in his embrace.

“You look like an old man, in your trouser socks like that,” Yuuri tells him in-between sloppy, almost juvenile open mouthed kisses that contrast the rest of their evening, yet fit into it so perfectly. Perhaps, it is because Yuuri is truly perfect.

“Yuuri,” Victor tugs at the buttons of Yuuri’s shirt. He’d only gotten so far as to discard his pants, socks, and jacket. “Stop teasing me and finished getting undressed.”

They fall into bed, and into a natural, and very lived in rhythm. Victor knows what kinds of kisses his Yuuri likes. He starts out slow, and builds the fire. Waits for Yuri’s to moan breathily into his mouth across dozens of little kisses. Then, he deepens them. He lets Yuuri wrestle control back from him. He lets Yuuri ravish his mouth while his own hands are busy elsewhere on Yuuri’s body.

He runs his hands down Yuuri’s sides until he shivers. He traces the tiny nodules of Yuuri’s spine, memorizing the rise and indentation of each one. He caresses Yuuri’s buttocks in his hands, and when Yuuri finally ends the kiss his eyes are blown so wide with need.

They’ll peel their underwear off together, throw it to the most barren corners of the room, and then their hands are on each other immediately. Victor loves the way that Yuuri is painstakingly systematic with him. Yuuri gives Victor a quick, hard pump right away. Then, the rubs a few delicious circles on the head of his cock with whatever precome has pooled there. He toys with his slit, and then gives him another pump.

Victor, ashamedly, has less finesse in this area than his husband.  He wants to touch all of Yuuri at once. He takes Yuuri into his palm and works his hand from the tip of Yuuri’s cock to the root. It’s always so easy to fall into this kind of rhythm, Yuuri practically leaks when he’s excited. He’s so wet, and so sexy, and so perfect, and-

“Victor,” Yuuri says in a startled gasp. Oh, he must’ve been saying all of that out loud. Yuuri spills into his hand and onto his stomach. Victor kisses him through it, until he comes back down, and joins him here on earth.

“I wasn’t ready yet,” he whines.

“You’re the one who is known for your stamina, Yuuri,” Victor chuckles. “You’ll bounce right back.”

Yuuri shoots him a questioning look, but Victor will have none of it. Yes, upon turning twenty-nine or so, definitely now that he’s in his early thirties, Yuuri has had to learn the meaning of the term “refractory period”. However, Yuuri’s post thirty slump is still a mere fraction of what Victors is. “How should we do it then Victor?”

“I want you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s fingers are slow, meticulous, and spread him open _just_ right. Just the way that Victor taught him to years ago. Yuri rubs him in slow, pressure filled circles that make him see stars when he screws his eyes shut. Makes him moan into Yuuri’s shoulder, and bite the soft skin that is there.

“I’m ready Yuuri,” Victor whispers into his ear. “I feel you. I know you’re ready for me too.” It feels like time has stood still. The riverfront feels like days ago, and work today like lifetimes. Yuuri looks at him with big brown eyes of near endless depth, and nods to him softly.

That’s all the warning that he gets. Yuuri pushes in slowly, but despite all of the prep Victor’s body is slow to yield. How long has it been since they’ve been able to do this with one another? At least a week, maybe longer. How long has it been since Victor has asked Yuuri to take him like this? Longer still.

Yuuri’s depth perception, gone as soon as he placed his glasses on the night stand, bumps noses with Victor on a way in for a kiss. Missteps aside, everything about Yuuri is sensuality wrapped in pure affection.  Yuuri moves, and Victor pushes back against him. Finding a rhythm is easy, so easy that he can’t bear to think back to a time in his life where this wasn’t the norm between them.

Ah, but knowing exactly what the other wants and what the other likes has its own downsides. Yuuri wraps a hand around his cock, and gives him the twist of the wrist and the pressure that he needs to come. Victor whispers to him, in French now, because Yuuri has gotten so good at Russian. He likes the mystery of not knowing what it is that Victor is saying.

It’s over all too quickly. Victor spills onto his own chest, and onto Yuuri’s hands. Yuuri indulges him completely. Comes inside so that he can feel Yuuri dripping out of him later.

* * *

“I’m probably not supposed to tell you this,” Yuuri confesses in a soft whisper. “But when we were at the river, I wished on a star. Wanna know what it was?”

Yuuri is answered with a soft snore. Victor’s taken on the bad habit lately of falling asleep as soon as he comes. Yuuri will let it slide tonight. It’s been a very long week. “I wished we had everyone up on the podium this season. Yurio, Minami, the triplets. I wished that you’d finish the one course that you need to graduate.” Yuuri smooths the comforter over both of them.  “I wished that we’d both make time for more of this.” He kisses the shell of Victor’s ear. “So, I hope it comes true.”


End file.
